


Sam Gets In Trouble (Or the Downsides to Being an Omega)

by Selune



Series: Sam's An Omega and Dean Doesn't Know [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Brady is offscreen but talked about, F/M, M/M, Omega Sam Winchester, Requited Unrequited Love, Sam is almost raped, Sam/OFC is blink and you'll miss it, Stanford Era (Supernatural), but he's saved, so is Jessica's appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selune/pseuds/Selune
Summary: Brady is acting weird and leaves Sam at a club by himself. Sam's new chaperone, Mike, isn't anything like Brady.Wherein Dean makes a brief appearance, Jessica makes a briefer one, and Becky has something that's going to change Sam's life.
Relationships: Real Tyson Brady/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Sam's An Omega and Dean Doesn't Know [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973269
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Sam Gets In Trouble (Or the Downsides to Being an Omega)

Sam huffed and slammed his phone down on the bar. Brady was supposed to meet him over an hour ago.

Sam could say this wasn’t like his best friend, but the truth was that Brady had been acting weird since Thanksgiving break. Sam had spent it with Pastor Jim, helping out at the rectory, and Brady had gone home to Maine.

He wished he’d taken Brady up on his invitation to spend the break with him, but Sam had been embarrassed to admit he couldn’t afford the plane ticket. If he’d just sucked it up and put it on his emergency credit card, maybe Brady would be OK.

As it was, Sam suspected that maybe some of Brady’s high school friends (who Sam was not impressed with the one time he met them, when Brady’s parents had paid to fly them both to Maine last Christmas) had introduced him to some of the harder drugs.

Sam knew all along that Brady had an addictive personality. He drank too much and took his chaperone castration pill every day, instead of just when he was on the job. He also alternated between marijuana and Adderall, depending on if he had a big test coming up or was coming down from the stress of that. 

Since they got back, Brady had been acting erratically. Freshman year and the first part of sophomore, he was overprotective. Clingy. He had other friends, sure, but he hung out with Sam as close to 24/7 as they could get, with breaks for sleep and separate classes. He was loving, friendly, fun, but also up in Sam’s  _ ass _ if there was so much as an iota of a chance another Alpha might be in his  presence .

It had honestly made Sam think of Dean, and how he might have acted if Sam had presented in high school. From Dean, it would have been stifling, just another thing Sam had to rebel against. But from an Alpha he had developed a pretty deep crush on, it was comforting.

The new cold shoulder Brady was showing Sam really hurt. If nothing else, they were supposed to be best friends. But five times out of ten, when Sam wanted to hang out, Brady had some excuse as to why they couldn’t. Four out of the other five, he “forgot” about their plans and just didn’t show. 

But that had always been social hangouts that Sam didn’t need a chaperone for – hanging out in Sam’s dorm, getting food, going to the movies. Now, Brady was neglecting his actual  _ job _ and dodging Sam when he needed to be chapped to street legal with Stanford’s Omega policies. 

Sam was going to try Brady one more time, then leave. Getting drunk alone in the unaccompanied Omega section of the college club he and Brady always went to was not Sam’s idea of a good time. 

The phone was still ringing when an Alpha Sam vaguely recognized tapped him on the shoulder. 

Sam waffled for a second before hanging up and turning to face the guy. Brady wasn’t going to answer anyway if he hadn’t yet. 

“Hey, um,  _ Sam _ , right?” the Alpha asked. He was tall, only a couple inches shorter than Sam, but built like a brick shithouse. His highlighted hair was shorn close to his head. He was wearing the Ray Bans and chinos of a frat Alpha. 

“Yeah?” Sam said, preparing to reject the guy before he got his hopes up. Doing it without Brady always made him nervous, but he could take care of himself if need be. “Uh, listen, something’s happened with my chap, so I can’t dance with you or get a drink or anything until he gets here.”

“Oh, no, I know,” the guy said, and Sam felt himself tense up. “Brady called me, actually. I’m a backup chap. He asked me to pinch-hit for him tonight.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it to show Sam with Stanford ID, with the Omega Services chaperone badge stamped on it in the bottom right corner. “See? I’m all legal and everything. Stopped by the center before coming here.” He grabbed Sam’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “I’m Mike.”

Sam  was – devastated wasn’t quite the right word, but it was the closest he could think of. Brady sent a sub, without even telling Sam?

According to Sam’s Omega friends, their chaperones swapped out with subs all the time. Unlike Sam and Brady, who’d been a unit basically since the first day Sam was an Omega, most Omegas had a rotating team of 3-4 Alphas as their chaperones. But Brady had never – not once in a year and a half – let Sam be chapped by someone else. It would have been inconceivable before November. Never would have happened. Brady had joked, right before Thanksgiving break – that he would break the hand of any Alpha who tried to take his place at Sam’s side. 

Sam was stunned, like he’d been boxed around the head and his ears were still ringing. Sam took a quick drink of his appletini and asked, “Oh, uh, that’s not like him. Did he say what happened?” He kept his shoulders low, body language loose. This was just a casual question. No big deal. Just slightly curious but not invested. 

“Oh, you know. He’s on a date,” Mike said. His easy shrugged achieved the nonchalance Sam failed at. “Some cute freshman Omega girl. Hot little thing – almost wish I asked her out first, you know.”

Sam felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Brady left him hanging for a date? But Sam had thought. . .

It didn’t matter what Sam thought. Obviously, he was wrong. Brady’s protectiveness, his almost possessiveness and jealousy at times, Sam thought it meant something. Meant that Brady liked him as much as  _ Sam _ liked  _ him. _

He’d never been quite sure why Brady didn’t ask him out when they both were so obviously into each other. (Sam never asked Brady out, because – as much as Brady liked to think he was progressive, he still had some hang-ups on Omega/Alpha relationships.) Sam had gone out of his way to make sure Brady knew Sam would welcome any advances from his friend. He even took advice from the Omegas at his support group on how to flirt like an Omega, since everything he’d been taught beforehand was from an Alpha or Beta perspective.

Guess he had his answer on that now. Brady didn’t like him romantically. He was probably tired of Sam throwing himself at him and thought sending Mike like this would finally get him to stop. 

Well, message received. 

Sam gulped the remains of his drink and stood up, only to butt into the broad expanse of Mike’s chest. “I should – I should just go,” Sam mumbled, trying to get around the Alpha.

Mike gripped Sam’s shoulders in gentle hands. “Whoa, slow down,” he said, like he was trying to calm down a spooked horse. “Are you OK? Was it something I said?” Mike furrowed his brow as he lowered Sam back onto the barstool.

Sam wasn’t quite sure why, but he let it happen. He opened his mouth to give some excuse as to why he needed to leave, like,  _ right now _ , but Mike beat him to the punch.

“It’s not me, right?  ‘Cause , you are perfectly safe with me. I’m background checked and medicated just like Brady. Got all the same training. I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re with me.” He looked at Sam with pleading eyes. “Just, please don’t go yet. I’m just a backup, so I don’t get many hours, and I really need them. OK?”

Mike’s plea broke through to Sam. He knew what the pinches of poverty, had lived with it most of his life, and still felt it during breaks or when his scholarship and grant money ran low. 

“OK, sure, Mike. I can stay for a little while.” Sam mustered up a watery smile. “Let’s find somewhere else to sit and get me a drink.”

***

Sam drank a  _ lot _ with Mike there to watch out for him. As soon as they left the Omega area, the flood of free drinks started from Alphas and Beta men who wanted to talk to him. Unlike Brady, Mike stuck to water and soda (per department policy), and Sam determined to drink them all himself.

Mike did a great job fending off creeps but gave Sam space when he wanted to talk or dance with someone. This was Sam’s first time partying without Brady, but Mike kept him safe and unmolested even when his drunk brain decided he should wedge himself between two older Alphas (one male, one female) and make out with the both of them at the same time.

Mike was able to keep them calm – and from coming to physical blows over Sam – when the girl lifted Sam into her lap and the guy shoved his tongue down Sam’s throat. Hands rubbed at his waist and chest – even coming up to tweak his nipples through his shirt a few times – but never went under his clothes or below the waist.

Sam was having more fun than he ever had while clubbing, and, like, fuck Brady. Like,  _ fuck Brady. _ If he didn’t want Sam (and he clearly didn’t) then Sam could make out and get groped by whoever without a single. Ounce. Of guilt.

He didn’t want to accidentally bond with anyone, though, so he didn’t resist when Mike pulled him off his make-out buddies and told him it was time to leave. Sam finally noticed that the lights had been turned on and came to the realization they had closed down the club.

Brady – partier though he was – always made sure they left well before that since Alphas tended to get rowdier and more aggressive as the night went on.

Sam was feeling euphoric – high on sexual confidence. He didn’t want to go back to his room –  _ alone – _ and start brooding on how Brady didn’t want him.

Well  _ everybody else _ did, so who was really in the wrong, here? Brady was. He was stupid. Dumb.

Sam had seen the lust in all the Alphas’ eyes when they looked at him or got close enough to smell him, all night long. He’d seen the envy and jealousy when he picked someone else over them. 

Sam was a catch – a hot catch – and if Brady hadn’t gotten that through his thick head yet, well that was his loss. 

“Hey, Sam,” Mike said as they (Sam) were stumbling in the cool winter air outside the club. “Do you want to get some food and play video games back at my place?”

“Hell, yeah!” Sam slurred at his new friend.

***

Mike lived in an apartment on the far side of Palo Alto. Sam was riding in his car, an older Toyota sedan, when he started to get apprehensive about his  decision-making skills. 

He was drunk, alone, in a car with a much bigger Alpha he’d never talked to before tonight. He didn’t have any weapons on him, and no one knew where he was. 

Was he a fucking idiot? Did he want his life story to be turned into a gripping new Lifetime movie when his body turned up raped and decapitated on the side of the road, like that one movie where the serial killer Alpha did that to Omegas who “teased” him? 

Sam was definitely a tease. Especially tonight. He danced and flirted with multiple Alphas, and made out with people Pastor Jim would never approve to court him. Also, he was still a virgin, which made him the literal dictionary definition of a tease. 

Regaining a few brain cells, Sam tugged his cell out of his pocket. 

Sam paused. He couldn’t call anyone. Not while he was in the car with Mike. He had a fancy new Blackberry, so he could email, but who would get it in time to actually help if something went wrong? He would have to text, but who should he text?

Brady was out of the question. He’d sent Mike to Sam, so no way would he think Mike would hurt him. Also, Brady was probably either still on a date with his skank (Sam shouldn’t think like that – she was probably a perfectly nice girl for Brady to want to go out with her) or he was sleeping. 

Becky was one hundred percent asleep. She was in bed by 10 PM every night, unless Sam wheedled at her to come with him when Brady dragged him to another of his frat’s parties. 

His other Omega friends would either panic at Sam being with a strange Alpha, afraid for his safety, OR would treat Sam like some kind of slut pariah. Some of them could be pretty puritan and traditional. 

He Beta and Alpha friends, he was less sure of. It was almost 4 AM, so most of them were probably asleep. But would they react appropriately? Would they call the cops? Come over themselves? Roll back over and go back to sleep and do precisely nothing? 

Sam didn’t know, but there was one person he trusted to protect him. Before Sam had Brady, there was one person who looked out for him all his life. 

Dean might not be able to get to him quickly, but he could help Sam if something went wrong. He and Dean might not have talked in a while, but he’d always come if Sam was in danger, right?

Sam pulled up Dean’s emergency number because there’s no way he would have changed that, and opened a text. He very slowly typed out “ With new Alpha, Mike. If I don’t call by 8 AM, call  911 . ” He added the address when they parked and sent it off. 

***

Dean dragged himself into his motel room, more tired than he thought he’d ever been. This hunt was a hard one. He hated when the monsters looked human. Especially when they still packed a superhuman punch. 

Dean was sore all over and was looking forward to a hot shower and six hours of shut-eye before he had to get up and move on to the next hunt. Dad had sent him the lead, so he needed to get on it right away. 

As he was getting undressed to step into the blessed shower with absolutely no water pressure but was hot enough to burn off his epidermis, his emergency phone pinged. 

Cussing, Dean turned off the faucet and went to grab the phone. He opened it to find a text from Sam, and his heart almost stopped. He opened it up to read it, and it was almost unintelligible. “ Wn neoe aph mik call 8a  ekd 911” with part of what Dean thought might be an address. 

Dean hit the call button and put the phone up to his ear. “Come on, Sammy,” he said as the phone rang and rang. When voicemail kicked in, Dean hung up and called back. “Answer your PHONE, Sam,” he yelled when the voicemail came on the second time. 

Getting redressed, Dean did the mental math on how long it would take him to get to Sam. He was in a suburb of Denver, and that was about 1,300 miles from Palo Alto. The drive usually took 20 hours, but he could probably cut it down by a couple of hours.

That wouldn’t help Sam if he was in trouble right then, though. 

He got redressed and quickly packed up his shit, trying Sam’s phone the whole time. No answer.

So much for that shower.

***

Sam sat on Mike’s surprisingly plush couch, and Mike handed him his greasy hangover preventative. Sam smiled and took a bite of his burger, covered in grease and cheese, and just what he needed to not feel like death warmed over in the morning. “Thanks!”

Mike loomed over him for a second, before grinning and ambling to his small kitchen, visible from the living room. Mike got down two glasses and filled them with water. He took a pill out of a medicine bottle and swallowed it before coming back to the living room and sitting on the floor in front of Sam.

_ See, Sam? _ he thought to himself.  _ Mike’s just a nice guy who’s doing his job. He’s not going to hurt you. _

Mike handed him a game controller and let Sam pick out the first game they played. 

They played games for several hours before Sam’s yawning broke his concentration one too many times. “I’m beat,” he said, tossing the controller on the cushion beside him. 

Mike, still in the floor, looked up at him. “Do you want to take the bed, or want me to call you a cab? I can take you home in the morning.”

Sam shook his head, his bangs obscuring his eyes for a moment. “I can’t take your bed, man. I can sleep on the couch, though, if you don’t mind.”

Mike frowned and stood up, once again looking over Sam. “Man, if my mama found out I made an Omega take the _c_ _ ouch _ , I’d never hear the end of it. You’re taking the bed, and that’s that.” 

Sam knew enough to know that there was no point arguing with an Alpha when they got chivalrous, so he just nodded and let Mike lead him to the bedroom. After Mike left, shutting the door behind him, Sam shucked  _ h _ is jeans on the floor and climbed in the bed.

***

With Sam down for the count, Mike pulled a Red Bull out of the fridge and downed it in three gulps. The rut stimulant he’d taken when he’d gotten the Omega home was starting to work, and it shouldn’t be too much longer before it overtook the effects of the castration drug. 

He’d been watching Sam for a long time, but could never get near him, because of Brady. Brady, who kept Sam close to him at all times but refused to take him. If he wouldn’t bond with Sam, then someone who appreciated him would. 

Mike couldn’t believe his luck earlier that night when Brady came to his room, whining about overcommitting himself, and begging him to let Sam know he couldn’t make it. Mike had taken advantage of that and slid himself straight into the Omega’s good graces. 

Telling Sam his beloved Brady was on a date didn’t hurt. The fact that he’d just been playing catch up with homework he’d fallen behind on wouldn’t matter once Sam was his mate. 

Sam wouldn’t ever need to see Brady again when he was bonded to a  _ real _ Alpha. 

He felt his dick stir in his jeans at the thought of mating with his Omega. Any time now.

***

Sam was awoken when a body slid in bed behind him, an arm slipping around his waist. “ D’n ?” he asked, his sleep fuzzy brain not remembering he hadn’t seen Dean in over a year.

“Hey, baby, open up,” a voice not belonging to his brother whispered into his ear.

Sam jerked, fully awake now, but the arm around him stayed like a vice grip. “What-what’s going on?”

Sam felt hardness at his backside, then the hand not holding him down started to pull down his boxers.

“No!” Sam yelled, starting to actually try to get away. “Stop it. HELP!” He banged his elbows and feet against the body behind him, wriggling like an eel to get that arm to break loose just enough that he could slip out from under it. 

Nothing worked. The body – Mike, Sam remembered – rolled them over so he was on top and Sam, and used his body weight to keep Sam from getting away. 

“HELP ME!” Sam yelled, trying to use his Omega trill to alert any nearby Alphas to his distress. He’d never had to before, so he wasn’t sure if it worked. 

Mike’s hand clamped over Sam’s mouth and didn’t let go even when Sam bit him, so he wasn’t likely to get another chance. 

With Mike’s skin right at his nose, he got a whiff of Mike’s scent. It had changed. He was going into rut, which meant he’d have rut strength. If Sam didn’t get away  _ right now, _ he wasn’t going to be able to, and Mike would bite him as soon as his rut hit its zenith. 

He was so  stupid . He was so stupid.

Why did he come home with Mike? Everyone knew – there was no such thing as a safe Alpha. Not when around an Omega that they wanted. 

Sam should have known. He should have suspected. He should  _ always _ be suspecting. That’s what guardians and chaperones were for! 

Sam could fight werewolves and ghouls and other creepy crawlies that went boo in the night, but he would not be able to get out of this Alpha’s hold unless Mike wanted him to. 

Behind Mike’s hand, Sam cried out again when Mike finally got his underwear pulled off completely, then he just started crying when Mike’s naked penis rubbed up against the fat of his ass. Sam took heat suppressants, like most Omegas at colleges across the country – so his body wouldn’t produce slick. This was going to hurt. 

Suddenly, Sam heard a crash in the other room. It sounded like, someone kicking the door down? 

Mike hadn’t seemed to hear it, too concerned with getting inside Sam before Sam could get away. That probably helped the female Alpha, when she grabbed Mike’s neck and tore him away from Sam, throwing him into the far wall one-handed. 

She smelled of rut, too. And she was farther along into it, the musky smell of it almost gagging Sam with its intensity. 

“He’s MINE!” Mike yelled as he dragged himself back to his feet, and the woman (blonde, around Mike’s height, absolutely wild looking) threw a glance at Sam before preparing to throw down with Mike. 

Sam had never seen two Alphas in rut fight before, and he wasn’t about to now, if he could help it. But how to get away, when they were covering the door?

If the woman beat Mike, would she just try to take his place? She’d saved Sam from him, but that didn’t mean much if her mating instincts took over and made her believe she deserved to bond with Sam, after protecting him and taking him from a weaker Alpha. 

Sam shoved his legs in his boxers and pulled them onto his hips. His phone was in his jeans, which were near where the Alphas were circling each other.

Sam eyed the window. They were on the second floor, but he’d jumped out of higher places before. There was even a little bit of roof that would let him slide down a bit before he had to jump. 

The woman’s eyes went wide when she saw what he was doing, but Mike jumped her before she could stop him. Sam was out the window before he saw who won.

***

Sam stood in front of the 7-Elven, shivering in his shirt and boxers, as Becky pulled up to get him. The attendant had been nice enough to let Sam use his phone to call his friend. 

He pulled open the door and got in as quickly as he could when she stopped the car. Mike and the blonde Alpha hadn’t come after him, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. 

“So,” Becky said, looking straight out the window, not an eye on Sam. Sam braced himself, afraid he was about to be lectured after his horrific experience. “I have a cousin who can get you Beta scent. This doesn’t have to happen again.”

“And it’ll. . .” Sam trailed off.

“Yes,” Becky said. “It’ll completely cover your Omega scent and stop you producing Beta hormone.”

“But isn’t that illegal?”

“Who gives a shit?” Becky barked, and Sam could finally see her crack. “This isn’t happening to any of my friends –  _ any of us _ \- ever again, as long as I can help it. So, do you want it?”

Of course, he did.

***

Dean pulled into Palo Alto early Monday morning, having – of course – hit construction on the way. He kept trying to call Sam, but couldn’t reach him. He’d even called Stanford, and the hospitals surrounding the area, but no one could tell him anything about Sam. 

Dean had never regretted letting Sam leave more in his life. He should have tied his brother down, handcuffed him to Dean. Dean was the only one who could keep him safe, and this was the proof of it. 

Dean hadn’t been able to decipher the address Sam tried to send him, so he started his search on campus. He didn’t know Sam’s dorm hall, but he knew where Sam tended to hang around, from his and Dad’s frequent drive-byes to make sure Sam was OK. 

He started  at the bookstore and worked his way out, finally catching Sam at Dohrmann Grove, just  _ surrounded  _ by Omegas. 

From  Dean’s point of view, he looked pretty good. No bruises. Hair too long, but when wasn’t it? He did need to talk to Sammy, though, before he left. 

Dean waited a ways away until the top of the hour neared, and everyone started clearing out to get to their next class. 

“Sammy!” he called, as his little brother started walking in the other direction. 

Sam startled, catching himself imperceptibly (to anyone except Dean). “What are you doing here?”

Sam’s Beta scent – the same as always – hit Dean when he got closer to Sammy, and he finally started to relax.

Dean chuckled. He was going on almost 72 hours with no sleep, responded to Sam’s SOS, and drove 20 full hours to come to his rescue, and Sam wanted to know what he  _ was doing here?! _ “You got anything to say to me, little brother? Maybe about a certain text you sent and about you never answering your phone!”

“Oh, um,” Sam looked down and blushed. “Sorry. I lost my phone Saturday night. Haven’t been able to get it back. I’m OK, now. I forgot I texted you – I was pretty drunk.” Before Dean could get  _ too _ mad, Sam made an offer. “Do you want to get food and catch up?”

Yes, he did. He wanted that very much.


End file.
